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So damn thirsty. That's all Dante could think about as he shook the empty whisky bottle over his open mouth, desperate for just another drop. With a frustrated grunt, he threw it across the room and watched it shatter against the far wall. That had been his last bottle. Not any cash left to buy another. It wasn't his first bottle tonight, and he hadn't expected it to be his last.
He turned to dig through the liquor cabinet for another. Caught sight of his reflection in the glass. Couldn't stop himself from smashing it. He truly hated his birthday.